


Mysterious As

by thelilacfield



Category: Glee
Genre: Coming of Age, Family, M/M, Murder, Supernatural Elements, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:25:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1328449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been almost eleven years since Elizabeth Hummel passed away. Though the world believes it was a sudden heart attack, her son and only child knows better. He knows she was murdered by a woman with claws and red eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mysterious As

Written for the Kurt Big Bang 2013. Cover made by  **gleeddicted** , art drawn by  **soundsaboutrighttumblr**. Betaed by  **hazelandglasz**.

 **Pairing:**  Kurt/Blaine

 **Warnings:**  violence, threats, murder, one instance of dub-con

* * *

Clouds clashed like curtains over the baleful sun, streaks of rain dyed gold as they lashed the ground, snapping beloved flowers in two. Elizabeth glanced upwards, her blue eyes heavy with guilt and regret and resignation. "Keep Kurt hidden away tonight," she said softly, knowing her husband would hear her. She turned away from her flowerbeds and found Burt standing in the doorway, his face set in a grim mask. "You feel it too, don't you? There's a storm brewing in this town, and when the moon reaches its highest point it will break. We cannot allow any harm to come to the young ones. Darling, can you alert the other families? It is our duty to protect their children as we do ours."

"Momma!" Schooling her solemn expression into a bright smile, Elizabeth opened her arms as her son launched himself at her legs, grinning up at her. "Can I go to Sammy's for dinner? He says he'll show me all his robots, I wanna go,  _please_!"

"Not tonight, baby," Elizabeth said softly, gathering the five year old into her arms and clutching him to her chest. The very idea of letting her baby out of her sight, on such a night when the tension was crackling beneath the surface and all of her people could feel it about to break its shell, horrified her. Though the squirming boy in her arms didn't know it, the future of the town rested on his fragile shoulders, and his innocent eyes would see many horrors through their days. "Do you want to help make dinner? We're having omelettes, and I'll even let you crack the eggs for me."

Distracted from disappointment at not being allowed to play with his friends, Kurt raced into the house to wash his hands, and Elizabeth blinked back tears as Burt came to wrap an arm around her, pressing a fierce kiss to her temple. "You have to keep him safe, no matter what happens," Elizabeth insisted, heart warm with love for her son. "He is the future of our kind. Without him, this town will be brought to its knees. But he can't know what's expected of him until he shifts. He deserves a normal childhood when he was born with such a burden to bear."

"We had no idea it would be passed on to him, the chances of children being born this way is fifty-fifty, you shouldn't feel guilty," Burt reassured her softly. "I've spoken with the other parents, and we are going to do our best to neutralise whatever threat comes before any of our children reach sixteen. They might have a chance at a normal life."

"You and I both know a pack without an alpha defeats nothing," Elizabeth said, clutching at Burt's hand. He started shaking his head, and opened his mouth to protest, but she put a finger to his lips. "Darling, there have always been people who wanted my power. Tonight, one will strike, and I fear I may not be able to stop them. If so, they will not control the pack as it is, but make a new one, stronger, from innocent teenagers. Kurt must survive to sixteen and take command of the others like him to defend this town."

Despite his whining protests, a screaming tantrum and much kicking of feet, Kurt was eventually put to bed early, folding his arms over his chest and sulking aggressively while Elizabeth tucked him in, but immediately curling into her embrace. She held him tighter than she ever had, sure that this would be the last time she held her baby boy. "I love you so much, Kurt," she murmured, inhaling his sweet, clean scent. "Never forget that, baby. Always remember how much your momma loves you."

"I know, Momma," Kurt said, sounding put-upon. "I love you too, lots and lots. More than I love ice-cream or your pretty jewellery. Can I wear your necklace with the orange stone when we play tomorrow?" Laughing to disguise her tears, Elizabeth clutched him close, rubbing his back through his shirt, feeling the warmth of his body.

"Of course you can, sweetheart," she promised, clasping his hand in hers. "And if I'm not here, you just tell Daddy that I said you could play with all my jewels. Here's a very special one, that you should wear all the time." Slipping off her wedding ring, the silver circle engraved with _only death can part us now_  a much more beautiful alternative to the diamonds her and Burt couldn't afford at the time of their wedding, she unclasped the simple silver chain from around her neck and slid first the wedding ring, then the engagement ring Burt had presented so earnestly, apologising for its cheapness, onto the chain. "These will keep you close to me, and help you remember how much I loved Daddy, and how you came from that love," she whispered as she snapped the chain into position around Kurt's neck. He was so small, the rings hung down near his belly button, and Elizabeth smiled tearfully. "I love you, Kurt Elijah Hummel. Never forget that."

"I love you, Momma," Kurt said. He seemed to sense that something was wrong, and crawled into Elizabeth's lap for a cuddle, despite how much he had been recently insisting that he was too big to sit in her lap. "I'll always love you."

Kissing Kurt's cheeks, his forehead, his nose and his ears, Elizabeth tickled his sides before she tucked him into bed, tucking all his toys in beside him and flicking on his nightlight so the hearts he had insisted on spiralled around the room. Sliding the door closed, she leant back against the wall and let a few tears slip down her cheeks, facing the knowing that she had just seen her son for the last time as a howl shattered the night, and she felt the pressing of her pack into her mind, all worried for their sons and daughters.

"Keep them inside, in bed, and safe," Elizabeth said aloud, knowing her frantic pack could hear her. "I'm the one she wants, and I'll die to protect my family. Stay in your houses, lock all the door and windows, and don't try to help. I know she's going to kill me, and you will all have to stay strong to hold the pack together. Be brave, my darlings. The road ahead is long and arduous."

The howl echoed again as the moon silvered the sky, and Elizabeth stepped out into the garden, her delicate features melting away for her paws to hit the ground, red eyes gleaming as the moonlight shimmered over her sleek brown fur. Her eyes caught another wolf slinking into the garden, smaller than herself and pure white, black eyes burning like hot coals. Ears pricking up as she sensed Burt behind her, thrumming with the want to shift but still in control, Elizabeth felt an intrusive nudge at her mind, the sound of a familiar voice ringing.  _Now now, dear, let's not start the evening with violence. Can't we speak like civilized women? Call off your guard dog of a husband, I only wish to negotiate._

"Cassandra," Elizabeth said politely as she changed back, smiling charmingly at the blonde woman who stood before her. Perhaps she could negotiate her way through this without losing her life. "Forgive me, with the current tensions I never imagined you only wanted to talk. Everyone has been feeling it for weeks, just beneath the front this town presents."

"Well, we wouldn't want the humans finding out that murderous creatures are stalking the streets," Cassandra observed, folding her arms and smirking dangerously. "They might be clueless but I'm sure they know where to find silver bullets."

"You know as well as I do that no member of my pack has ever harmed a human in this town," Elizabeth snarled protectively, her pack nudging at her mind in affirmation. "That is the rule, to protect our children and remain undiscovered."

"Ah yes, your son with the lapdog over there," Cassandra observed silkily, inclining her head towards Burt. "Now don't bare your teeth, honey, that isn't polite. Only reason I have to honour you is because you stick to my Alpha. So how old is the little thing now? You must be grooming him to take over as Alpha."

"Kurt's five now," Elizabeth answered politely, steeling herself to avoid glancing up at Kurt's darkened window. She could still feel the waves of hostility thrumming through the air between her and Cassandra, and couldn't risk her hurting Kurt. "The shift won't be forced on him until he reaches sixteen, and only then will we tell him what he was born to become. He deserves a normal childhood, not like that poor Lopez girl, her hand already forced."

"My dear, he'll never have a normal childhood," Cassandra said, her every movement graceful as she crossed the lawn. Ignoring Burt's warning hand on her arm, Elizabeth met the blonde woman in the centre of the lawn, the wind whipping into a frenzy, howling as a wolf without a pack did. "He isn't normal. Don't you think he'll wonder why Daddy disappears every full moon? And you know how the urge to change grows with every year, he won't have any idea what it is." Her eyes gleamed with rage, almost satanic, as she stepped forward and whispered, "He won't know why the whole town is in disarray without their Alpha or why his father is haunted by the past or why he'll have nightmares about blood and claws and screaming for years."

Losing focus for a moment, Elizabeth glanced up and saw Kurt's pale little face peering through his window, the curtains patterned with colourful farm animals parted. A flash of gold whipped through the night and a claw sliced across Elizabeth's neck. Burt let out the yell of a wounded animal as Cassandra's extended claws tore into Elizabeth's chest, blood streaming in scarlet waterfalls onto the grass. Her body crumpled, and Cassandra stood over her, her eyes briefly flashing scarlet. Seizing her by the neck, she dragged Elizabeth's dying body up to hiss, "I'm the Alpha now, and I'll kill your son," before letting her drop and vanishing into the night.

Elizabeth knew she was dying, and smiled weakly when Burt skidded to his knees beside her, grabbing her hand and gazing down at her, resigned to her fate. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, pushing her hair away from her face and tracing a finger reverently over her delicate features. "I knew she would, and I wasn't fast enough to protect you."

With the last of her strength, Elizabeth lifted her hand to cup Burt's cheek. "Look after Kurt," she whispered, and was gone. Her body lay still on the grass, the emerald stained with blood, and Burt bowed his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. Turning around, ready to go back into the house to cover his wife's body with a sheet and call the morgue, have her away before the morning came and the neighbourhood flocked to the tragedy, Burt froze when he saw Kurt standing in the open doorway, staring at Elizabeth's body slumped on the grass.

Burt's heart wrenched when he saw the wedding and engagement bands he had given Elizabeth hanging around his son's neck, and he walked tentatively closer, reaching out his arms for the shivering boy. "It's okay, Kurt," he whispered softly. "Go back inside and to your bed. You need to sleep."

"Momma?" Kurt murmured, stretching out his arms for Elizabeth's cold body. Burt hugged him close, but Kurt had seen the blood, the way his mother lay still, and he started to scream, cheeks scarlet as his tears flowed freely. "Momma!"

* * *

" _Momma_!" Jerking upright, clothed in a cold sweat, Kurt looked wildly around the room, groping across his nightstand for the switch on his lamp, flooding the darkness with warm light. Seeing the light of the moon striping silver across his bedspread, his stomach turned and his skin crawled, remembering that night when he'd glanced innocently out onto the lawn, expecting to see his parents enjoying the moonlight, and seen a terrible woman with red eyes murder his mother in cold blood before she vanished into the night, seen the devastation on his father's face, stood gripping his hand and crying as her coffin was lowered into the ground a week later. It had been a day filled with tall people in dark colours that he didn't know, saying how sorry they were and offering him food he couldn't eat, and one mysterious girl who hovered on the edge of the crowd, not much older than Kurt himself, alone and staring at him with narrowed eyes.

Throwing the tangle of sheets away from his legs, opening his door to get rid of the stifling heat pressing in all around him, Kurt pushed his curtain slightly aside to look up at the moon. A neat half, it was gentle against the harsh dark sky, the light touching Kurt's face as lovingly as his mother's hands once had. His skin prickled with it, an ache shuddering down his spine and he let the curtain fall back, clamping his quivering fingers over his thighs and squeezing his eyes shut against the tears he could feel about to fall.

He screamed when the silence of the night was shattered by an inhuman wail of agony, stumbling out of the bedroom to find his father already running down the hallway, pushing him back into his room. "Don't you dare leave this house," he growled, and Kurt shrank back from the sudden authority. "Stay here and don't call the police, someone else already will have."

"Dad, please, I want to help," Kurt pleaded, voice shaking when he saw the anger in his father's face, his steely glare. "Whoever that was, they sounded in so much pain, I can't just sit here knowing that happened. Please, they sounded just like Momma." He saw the pain in his father's eyes and wrapped his arms tightly around himself. "Please, Dad."

"No," his father snapped, and Kurt's face fell in disappointment. "Stay here, inside, where you're safe. It was your mother's last wish that I'd keep you safe, and if you step one foot out there you'll be in terrible danger.  _Stay here_."

Kurt only waited long enough to watch his father cross the street before he pulled on a pair of socks and shoes and followed, pulling his hood over his head. Another cry swelled up in the silence, and he followed the echo, the sounds of crackling twigs and leaves beneath the feet of those running to investigate and, as he grew closer, he could hear a desperate retching sobbing. Pausing for breath, nails scraping down the rough bark of the nearest tree, Kurt looked up to see a pair of eyes gleaming through the darkness. Pulsing red, like those of the woman who had murdered his mother. A growl bubbled in Kurt's throat, lips drawing back in a snarl, body quivering in anticipation. But then the eyes melted into the darkness, and Kurt heard the yelling close by and pushed his way through a collection of trees.

The small clearing was filled with people, the echoes of screaming and shouting, people plugging their ears and talking into their phones on every side. Weaving between people, Kurt staggered backwards when he saw the source of the chaos. A body. Blood dampening the soil, wounds ripped through cloth, screaming and crying and wailing. Running his eyes over the wounds, stomach churning uncertainly, Kurt recognised the slit neck, the long scratches down the poor man's chest. He remembered the same patterning on his mother's crumpled body.

"Let me through, let me through, he's my brother!" came a frantic yelling, and Kurt was shoved aside as the crowds jostled to let a boy through, probably the same age as Kurt himself. Wrapping his arms around himself, swallowing down tears, Kurt watched the boy skidding to his knees, listening to his frantic screaming. "Please help, somebody, anybody, help me!"

Kurt ducked backwards when he saw his father emerge from the crowd, a man and a woman with him, the three of them working almost as one, covering the body with a sheet and lifting him away. Their faces were resigned, as if they'd seen scenes like it a hundred times before. The boy was crying, shoulders heaving, and Kurt didn't wait for his father to turn away before he pushed out of the crowd, kneeling next to the boy and draping his own jumper over him. Turning his face into Kurt's shoulder, the boy clung to him, as Kurt could remember clinging to his father the night his mother had been murdered, the only anchor in a changing world. "Come on," Kurt murmured, helping the boy to his feet. "Let's get out of here."

Guiding the boy back through the woods, over the snapped twigs and rustling skeletons of leaves, Kurt paused when he heard something, a swish of air. "Is something wrong?" the boy asked, looking up at Kurt with round, damp eyes, and Kurt shook his head, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Just the wind," he assured him, sliding his arm more firmly around the boy. But he couldn't help searching every dark bush and tree for gleaming red eyes, the hair on the back of his neck prickling with anticipation, fighting to keep his breath steady until they were back in the streets, bathed in the sickly orange glow of the streetlights, the sound of music and laughter echoing from a cracked-open window. "I'm Kurt Hummel, by the way," he said as he opened the door to the house and let the boy in, toeing off his muddied shoes. "What's your name?"

"Blaine," the boy said shyly, pulling the dangling sleeves of Kurt's jumper tighter around him, glancing warily around the hallway. "Blaine Anderson. Are you sure your parents won't mind?"

"They're not here at the moment," Kurt said gently, pointing Blaine in the direction of the kitchen, flicking on the lights to melt the shadows away and stop the goosebumps rising on his skin. "Do you want something to eat? Or drink, we have some coffee if you're cold."

Blaine shook his head, but at least followed Kurt into the kitchen, sinking down into a seat at the table and pillowing his forehead on his arms. Seeing his shaking shoulders and hearing the sharp intakes of breath as he tried to quiet his sobs, Kurt tentatively sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I know how you feel," he said quietly. "I know you want to scream at the world and punch a wall until you bleed and cry until there's nothing left. You can."

"How can you possibly know how I feel?" Blaine asked, looking up with red, swollen eyes, tears dripping down his cheeks. "You've never been looking for your brother when he wasn't home at one like he promised and heard him screaming. You haven't gone running into the woods to look for him, trying to get past a hundred other people doing the same, you haven't pushed through a crowd and found you were too late to do anything. You've never seen someone you love dead and their blood everywhere."

"My mother was murdered when I was five," Kurt snapped, and all the anger drained from Blaine's eyes, his expression turning to shame. "She looked up at my window and was distracted for just a minute, and she was  _murdered_. Do you know what that's like? To know for ten years, no matter what people tell you to the contrary, that someone you loved more than anything else was killed because you distracted them. You are the one who can't possibly understand how I feel."

"Kurt, I'm sorry, I didn't know," Blaine whispered sadly, scrubbing at his eyes with the corner of his sleeve. "I think I heard about that, my parents were horrified. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but was your mother Elizabeth Hummel?"

"She was," Kurt said softly. "She was everything to me, and to my dad. He's never been the same since she died." He started when Blaine's hand closed over his forearm, a small gesture of comfort, and blinked back prickling tears. "But it was years ago, I've had so much time to accept it. Where are your parents?"

"Out of town, my dad had a conference," Blaine answered, sniffing and blinking away more tears. "It's just me and my brother, in the house around the corner, with the cherry trees. Well...just me, now." Reaching for the box of tissues, Kurt slid them in front of Blaine, squeezing his shoulder gently as Blaine mopped at his cheeks and blew his nose.

Kurt heard the door open and looked out to find his father walking in, looking older and more tired that he was used to seeing, the lines of suffering in his face far more obvious than usual. "Hey kid," he said gently, looking at Blaine. "The police have called your parents, they'll be back tomorrow. For safety's sake, you should stay here tonight. You can stay in my room, I'll sleep on the couch." Blaine nodded helplessly, blotting up his tears with a tissue and leaning into Kurt slightly, using him for support.

Curled up in bed, Kurt could hear the sobbing from the room where Blaine was, lying there listening to the sound of heartbreak. Hoping his father would remain firmly asleep, Kurt slid his door open enough to slither out and pad down the hallway to his father's bedroom, opening the door with a shy knock. "You can come in," Blaine said with a sigh, and Kurt crossed over to climb into the bed next to him, seeing Blaine's face swollen and red and bright with tear tracks in the moonlight. "It must seem a little excessive, all this crying," Blaine said, sitting cross-legged on the sheets, staring down at his own knees instead of at Kurt. "But Cooper was my rock. He was the first person I came out to, actually. I was thirteen."

"You were so brave," Kurt said without thinking, reaching to grip Blaine's hand reassuringly. "I still haven't  _told_  anyone, but I'm sure they all know. I mean, it's pretty obvious that I am. The way I look, the way I dress, the way I talk."

"They don't mean anything, it's what's inside that counts," Blaine said bracingly. He blinked his eyelashes rapidly, obviously to stave off more tears, and Kurt watched the motion of his throat as he swallowed before he shyly said, "I think you're really nice-looking. Looking at you stops me from feeling sad, just for a little while." Kurt watched in utter disbelief, feeling detached from his own body, as Blaine's eyes slid shut and he tilted his head up to brush a kiss against Kurt's lips.

"Blaine, stop," Kurt murmured, prising him off. "You're upset, you're not thinking straight, you'll regret this in the morning." As Blaine's arms hooked into place around Kurt's neck, dragging him closer, Kurt falteringly murmured, "Stop," before Blaine kissed him again, harder this time, lips pressing perfectly against Kurt's. Leaning against him, Kurt simply gave in and allowed Blaine's lips to move against his.

Letting one arm wrap around Blaine's waist, Kurt chanced moving a little closer, kissing Blaine firmly in return, ruining the rhythm of the kiss until Blaine adjusted and kissed him back, fingers curling slightly into the back of Kurt's neck. Gripping at Blaine's waist, shakily breathing in through his nose, inhaling Blaine's scent, Kurt felt his skin prickling, the hairs rising on the back of his neck, heat shooting through his stomach, sharp and painful, not the curling, tickling sensation people he knew maintained it was. The heat spread through him, licking like flames just beneath his skin, consuming him, his heart pounding too hard against his bones, and he jerked back from Blaine with a gasp.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked, tone all concern, reaching out a hand for Kurt. Looking at him, lying in the bed, chest heaving with every breath and face flushed and eyes dark with want, another painful surge of heat took Kurt's body and he slithered away, off the end of the bed, backing towards the door. "Kurt, what's wrong? Do you need a minute?"

Nodding, Kurt jerked the door open and shut it behind him, leaning back against the wood and pulling in a long breath, sagging against the support. The heat faded away slowly, tugging on Kurt's insides as it drained into nothing, taking the agony and the prickling skin with it. But he couldn't go back inside, he had to keep that away, it felt dangerous. Despite the guilt of leaving Blaine alone without an explanation, he turned away, back into his bedroom, scrabbling the lock shut and crawling over to pull the curtains firmly shut against the moonlight knifing through the gap between them. Glancing down onto the street, he saw the woman standing there, the same face he kept seeing in the shadows. She was staring up at his window, and as he watched she turned away, fading into the night. Shaking off the foreboding shivering up his spine, Kurt closed the curtains and lay down, hoping to will himself into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Returning to school the following week, Kurt was horrified to find that everyone was still talking about the murder of a man now named Cooper Anderson. He hadn't seen Blaine since avoiding his sad, reproachful eyes the morning after they'd taken him in, when he'd made monosyllabic small talk with Kurt's father until his parents had picked him up, pale and solemn and with eyes swollen up from crying. Now he was barging past the table where Kurt sat with Mercedes, Tina, Puck and Sam, away from a table who were all turning to each other in surprise. Tina echoed their obvious thoughts a moment later as she said, "I never imagined he'd come straight back to school. The poor boy."

Belying the stereotype that children pushed together because their parents were friends tended to loathe each other, the five of them had grown closer throughout the years. They had supported each other through every twist of life: when Puck's father had walked out on him, his mother and his sister; when Kurt's mother had been brutally murdered, despite their young age; and when Tina's parents had gone through a messy divorce when they were thirteen, supporting her through weeks of not coming to school and appearing on their doorsteps in the dead of night for a place away from fighting. Looking over at Tina, Puck said, "Some people don't want to take away too much time because something bad happened in their family. School's probably a distraction."

"My mom told me he stayed with you the night they found the body," Mercedes said, glancing over at Kurt. "What was he like?" Blinking slowly at her, Kurt found himself thinking back to hands on his back and lips on his, taking from him, hot skin slicked with tears pressed against his and a body pressing close, curling into him.

"He was polite," he said falteringly, determined not to let his friends know. "Quiet, but polite. He waited to cry until he thought me and my dad were both asleep. I went along to talk to him for a while, then I left." Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he tentatively considered asking them about the strange scalding prickling feeling that had rushed through him when he'd been kissing Blaine. One of them must know, with all their parents' whispered conversations in rooms that fell silent as soon as any of them walked in. But he didn't want them to look at him as if he was crazy, so he stayed silent, picking miserably at his food and gazing across the room at Blaine, sitting alone and slumped over his tray, wishing he knew how to talk to him.

When the bell finally rang for them to go home, cleaving through Kurt's skull with its harsh volume, he stood and rushed out, pushing through crowds of students talking in needlessly loud voices about their plans for the weekend and the piles of homework they had to do to get outside. Glancing over the parking lot as he fumbled around for his keys, he started violently when he saw a familiar face, the woman he'd caught looking up at his window, leaning against the hood of a car and staring straight at him. As he watched, a slight smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth before a tidal wave of students hid her from Kurt's sight. When he looked back, she had vanished into nothing. Nervous, he drove home very slowly, exhaling in relief when he saw his father's silhouette through the window.

But he had barely walked into the house when there came a knock at the door, and Kurt let out a sigh, turning around again to throw it open. Standing on the doorstep was the woman, who must've followed him, smiling engagingly at him and sliding her jacket off. "Dad!" Kurt shouted, backing away quickly, and his father came running in, eyes darting wildly with panic.

"Burt," the woman said, grinning at him, and Kurt watched with wide eyes as his father's shoulders relaxed and he stepped forward to wrap the woman in a warm hug, lifting her off her feet and letting out a thrilled laugh.

"Santana, it's been far too long since you came to see me," he said, letting her down and scrutinising her face carefully, making her twirl for him. "You seem to have lost even more weight and you've grown your hair out again. Honestly, young lady, next time you drop by I won't even recognise you."

"Well it's not easy piling the weight on or keeping my hair short when I'm following vague trails all over the country and supervising your boy in between times," Santana said, glancing at Kurt with a wink that made him tense, immediately ready to defend himself. "Speaking of him, he looks terrified. Why don't you introduce us, Burt? I'd very much like for Kurt to know who I am, seeing as he has only four weeks until he's sixteen."

"Kurt, this is Santana Lopez, a friend of mine." Warily, Kurt reached out a hand for her to shake, still gazing on her with distrustful eyes. "Please, kiddo, you can trust her. She's on our side, and she's been doing everything she can to protect you since your mom died."

"I don't  _need_  protected!" Kurt protested loudly. "I'm this close to being sixteen, I'm not a child anymore. You can't send creepy strangers to follow me all over town and keep tabs on me just because you're afraid I might meet someone and go running off with them." Folding his arms defiantly over his chest, shooting a narrow-eyed glare at Santana, Kurt was struck by something else his father had said. "And what's our side? The side of keeping me locked up because you want to keep me a little boy forever?!"

Looking between the two, Kurt let his arms fall back to his side as he saw the solemn expressions on their faces, the significant look they exchanged before his father beckoned to him. "Come on, kiddo. There's a lot to talk about, and if what I'm hearing is unfortunately correct, we don't have as much time as I'd like."

Following Santana into the living room, deliberately sitting as far away as possible from her on the couch, back stiff and straight, Kurt waited for his father to come through with mugs of coffee and the half-empty biscuit tin before he finally said, "Could someone please explain what's going on here? Are you just trying to keep me inside, like I'm your prisoner? You worry too much, Dad."

"My worrying isn't without cause, Kurt," his father said solemnly, taking a sip of his steaming coffee. "Kurt, you remember the night your mom died, and you saw more than I ever meant for you to see. You saw the woman who killed her, with her red eyes and her nails that could tear a throat out, but you don't know what she was or why she killed Elizabeth. You're old enough now that you need to know, or something will happen to you like it happened to the poor Anderson boy." Kurt nodded, wrapping his fingers around his mug to stop them trembling at the mere memory of that night, the gleaming red eyes like those he'd seen in the bushes the night Cooper had been murdered.

"Kurt, I'm sure you've grown up hearing horror stories about vampires and zombies and werewolves, particularly being friends with that idiot Puckerman," Santana said, rolling her eyes disdainfully. "But the interesting thing is that some of those stories are true, though the vampires all crumbled to dust a long time ago, and zombies are a Hollywood creation. But werewolves, those are real. And how do I know that?" She paused, looking over at Burt, and waited for him to nod his permission before continuing, "Because I am one. So's Burt here, and Elizabeth was, and you are."

Before Kurt could scoff at her, his father picked up the line of conversation. "Your mother descended from a long line of traditionally female Alphas, and she was the head of our pack and she kept the peace and stopped the humans from finding out about our kind. But Cassandra, who was only allowed into the pack because her own had all perished at the hands of men, was jealous of her power, and killed her to secure it. Since then, I've been working to keep the pack from falling into struggles and strife, but there's only so much I can do without an Alpha. You're an only child, which means you are the heir to the pack, Kurt. You're the true Alpha."

Inhaling sharply, Kurt set his mug down before looking back up at the two adults, both gazing at him with concern on their faces and worry in their eyes. "Bullshit," he said calmly, clasping his hands together. "If this is your idea of a prank to screw with me, you'll need to be more convincing."

With a heavy sigh, Santana stood and smiled at him. As he watched, her nails lengthened, turning into claws, her teeth sharpening into fierce points, her eyes glowing blazing bright until she stood before him, half human and half wolf, a smirk twisting her face around her fangs. "Convinced?" she asked, her voice a growl, and Kurt shrank into the couch as she turned back into herself, shaking her hair back. "Now, transforming at will like that takes years of practice. Maybe it helps that I'm a very angry person."

"The change won't be forced until the first full moon after your sixteenth birthday," his father explained gently. "Your mother wanted you to be protected until you had to step up and take care of your pack, and I've followed her wishes, but now you have to know. Cooper Anderson's death was not an accident. His body bore the same marks as your mother's, the same as anyone killed by a werewolf: long slashes down the chest and a single cut across the neck. Cassandra July is back in town, and you need to bring the new generation of the pack together to fight."

"And I've stopped tracking Cassandra across the country the way I have been for ten years, knowing she's back here, and I'm going to help you adjust to the change and act as Alpha until you're ready to take charge of those misfits you call friends," Santana added, and Kurt buried his face in his hands. First he was a werewolf, now all his friends were too, and there was a woman he'd never seen before in his house who'd apparently been watching him and he was descended from Alphas and everything was too much and he couldn't breathe.

Standing up, Kurt walked straight past the two still watching for his reaction and outside into the cold air, breath rising in a mist before him as he wrapped his arms around himself and sank down onto the stone step, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting his chin there. He barely had a minute of respite before he heard the door open and close behind him, and Santana sat down next to him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning her head against his shoulder. "I know it's a shock," she said softly. "I didn't even know I was a werewolf until I transformed. I was eight, my family was dead, my biological father had just threatened to kill me and something snapped. Before I knew what I was doing, I had ripped his throat out. Everything I could've clung to was gone, just like that." She snapped her fingers, cracking the silence of the day and making Kurt start out of his revery, imagining what it might have been like to discover his powers in such a sudden and brutal way. "So I came here, to your parents, covered in blood and crying, and they taught me how to live with what life had handed me. I'm here to repay their debt by putting their son where he belongs: on top."

"I don't understand why no one told me," Kurt said softly. "People must know who I am, but no one even thought that I might like to know I'm a supernatural monster and give me just a little more time to adjust to it." Sighing heavily, he continued, "Maybe it's for the best. It means the signs weren't just me going crazy."

"I know those well, they come around often until you can learn to control the wolf within." Santana reached for his hand, pressing her unnaturally warm fingers against Kurt's cold ones. "There's your senses getting more sensitive, being able to see and hear and smell things you couldn't before. I can't go near parties before the full moon, they're far too loud and crazy for the wolf to cope with. Then there's the unfortunate feeling like something is crawling inside whenever you're feeling extreme emotion. Being angry or scared or aroused makes the wolf want to come out. But I'm sure you haven't experienced any of that yet."

"Actually, I was kissing someone last week, and I felt that," Kurt confided, feeling the blush creeping up his neck. "I guess it was sort of moving towards making out, but I had to leave to cool off. I thought I was going to hurt him." Bowing his head to avoid the look on her face, he quietly confided, "It was Blaine. Cooper's brother. The night Cooper was murdered, Blaine stayed here, and I heard him crying and went to talk to him, and we ended up kissing."

Santana squeezed his hand, and said, "So you're gay. No biggie, I am too. Strangely enough, being a werewolf doesn't make people accept you any better. It just means you can bite the people who don't. And you don't even have to worry about subjecting them to this life. Werewolves are born, not made. It's amazing how many families carry a recessive lycanthropy gene. It appears in the weirdest places."

Leaning against her, Kurt stared down at the ice running across the driveway, contemplating how easily life could be changed. With a few words, everything he thought he'd known about himself was gone, and he had been replaced by a werewolf, someone who had so many expectations weighing on his shoulders it felt like he could hardly stand, someone who ought to be worrying about the fate of the entire town. Yet the most worrying thing in his life was Blaine, and whether he though Kurt was callous and uncaring, and how Kurt could get him alone and talk with him and make him see he'd been trying to protect him.

* * *

Hearing nails tapping on his window, Kurt rolled up from the mattress and pulled the curtain aside to see Santana perched on the slanted roof, clinging on with her claws extended, her face set in a drained mask. "There's been another murder," she said, her voice clear even through the glass. "At the video rental store, that sweet girl who works there." Leaning closer, her hand pressed against the windowpane, she added, "She was working the late shift. With Blaine."

The mere mention of his name triggered Kurt's frantic movement, opening the window and slamming it behind them as they slithered down the roof and dropped neatly to the sidewalk. Following Santana, much faster than him, Kurt came to a halt as they rounded a corner and saw the semi-circle of ambulances and police cars. To his amazement, somehow his father had beaten them there, speaking quietly with Puck's mother and a police officer, no doubt discussing how this event mimicked another recent murder. Kurt's heart skipped a beat as his eyes found Blaine, hunched up on the edge of an ambulance with its doors flung wide open, a shock blanket wound around his shoulders.

Leaving Santana to join the police officers, Kurt crossed the parking lot and knelt down by the ambulance, reaching out to put a hand on Blaine's knee. "Remember me?" he asked softly, and he saw the distrust flare up in Blaine's eyes. "Blaine, I know what I did was selfish and awful," Kurt said, reaching for Blaine's hand, fighting to keep the devastation off his face when Blaine pulled away from him. "I did it to keep you safe. Something was happening, and I had to keep it away from you. You could get hurt, Blaine, really hurt. Hurt like your brother or like the girl who died here tonight." Reaching for both of Blaine's hands, he tugged him closer and said, "I am so, so sorry for leaving you like that. I got caught up in myself and I didn't know what to do. I've been trying to figure out what to say for days, but all I can say now is that I did it to protect you."

"I don't need people protecting me," Blaine snapped, yanking his hands out of Kurt's grip. "I can take care of myself, I'm not some child you need to coddle and protect from the big bad world. I've seen my brother and now my friend die. They had lives, people who loved them, happy hearts that were beating, and now they're gone. I've seen their bodies, their blood, the light go from their eyes, and I've seen them die. Two people I love, murdered, when I can hear their screaming and the sounds of whoever is killing them running away from their crimes. I want someone to tear into them and make them pay."

"And I could arrange that," came a silken voice, and both boys looked up to see Santana standing over them, her arms folded and her face set in a mask of simmering anger. Kneeling down with them, Santana laid both hands on Blaine's knees, jerking her head to indicate for Kurt to sit next to Blaine, comforting him with the warmth of his jacket laid around Blaine's shivering body. "I think you need to know the truth of this, Blaine," she said gently. "But not here, not with so many witnesses. May I invite you along to my tiny apartment with Kurt tomorrow evening so we can talk?"

Blaine looked between them, eyes sullen and distrustful, until he finally said, "Fine. I can be there at seven." With a curt nod, quickly reeling off her address, Santana stood, digging her fingers into Kurt's shoulder in warning and linking her arm through his to drag him away.

"He hates me," Kurt mumbled, looking back at Blaine, perched on the edge of the ambulance and tugging at his blanket. "San, what do I do? I don't want him to hate me."

"We have bigger problems than your love life, Hummel," Santana said harshly, pulling Kurt into the knot of trees, away from the ears of the people starting to fill the parking lot, reporters already setting up their cameras to broadcast the latest tragedy across the state. "Whoever's killing these people, it's not Cassandra. The girl in there, it wasn't like a normal killing, with the slit across the throat and the scratches down the chest. She'd been ripped apart. Mature werewolves just don't commit that kind of savagery. She's got herself tangled up in ancient dark magic so she can turn people, only newly-transformed werewolves will go that wild. Kurt, whatever we're up against, it's more powerful than we ever imagined. You have to be able to own the pack and lead them to victory. If we can't stop Cassandra, everyone will be killed."

Chest clenching, Kurt braced himself against a tree, crouching over himself as he threw up, coughing violently as Santana's hand traced small circles into his back, a bottle of water appearing beneath his nose. Hands shaking, he took a long drink, swilling it around his mouth and spitting it into the undergrowth, his voice trembling as he said, "I want out. I can't do this. You be the Alpha."

"Kurt, I can't just step into your shoes," Santana insisted, grabbing his wrists and tugging him in close. "It has to be you. You are the true Alpha, the one who was born for this, the last surviving direct descendant of the Alpha line. I'm not powerful enough."

"Not  _powerful_  enough?!" Kurt screamed, pushing her away. "You can transform at will! I need you to teach me how to be a werewolf because I have no idea what I'm doing! My father trusts you more than he trusts me! You know exactly what you're doing, I want you to do this. I don't want this burden any more."

"This isn't about you, or what you want!" Santana shouted, pulling Kurt away from the crowd, further into the forest. "This is about everyone who will  _die_  if we...if you can't lead the pack. Think about that, Kurt. They will destroy this town, everyone here, and you will have stood back and let it happen. Is that what you want?"

Pushing Santana backwards, every word punctuated with another shove, Kurt shouted, "I want to be a normal teenager!" Fiery anger sparking in his veins, he yelled, "I want to worry about my grades and that homework I haven't started and little stupid things that won't matter in five years! I want to be able to ask my friends about my love life without getting a lecture about being self-obsessed! I don't want this!"

Pain ripped quite suddenly through Kurt's body, his skin prickling and melting around every bone, excruciating needling agony, and Santana was immediately at his side, on her knees, arms around him, holding him together as every muscle seemed to shred like wet paper. "Fight it," she whispered frantically. "Push it away, Kurt. You don't want it, not now. Find an anchor, something that keeps you human.  _Find it_!"

Tina laughing. Puck and Sam aiming water guns. Mercedes talking about her latest shopping trip. His father crying late at night when he couldn't see a future. His mother, a vague sunshine presence, and her smile. Blaine that night in bed, his lashes spiky with tears and his voice soft and earnest. And finally, the pain slipped away, and Kurt collapsed against the dirt, covered in a sheen of cold sweat and panting, mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood.

"See what I mean about intense emotions?" Santana asked, helping him to sit up and propping him against a tree. Reaching inside her shirt, she pulled out a bar of chocolate and broke off a few squares. "Sugar helps when you're coming back from a transformation. Fighting it off is even more difficult." Leaning against the tree with Kurt, she turned his head to look at her and said, "I'm not trying to be a bully to you, Kurt. I'm not the enemy here."

"I know," Kurt said, his voice hoarse and strained. "I just...I have a lot to lose. And this is terrifying. I'm not ready to do this."

"No one ever is," Santana observed, folding her arms. "It's called life, hon." Prodding him in the side, she added, "I, for one, think you have far too much to lose. You need to stop making friends and lovers. Look at me, I'm up to the task: dead family, no girlfriend, and I don't do friends."

"You do me," Kurt said fondly, nudging his forehead against Santana's shoulder.

"I think there's a slight sexuality incompatibility there, Hummel," Santana said with a smirk, and Kurt elbowed her hard. "But, y'know, if you ever want to look down my top, you just ask. I've seen straight girls question their sexuality after one look at my boobs." Standing up, she hauled Kurt to his feet and linked her arm through his. "Come on, I want to show you my really humble abode. We need to figure out what we're going to tell Anderson when he comes by tomorrow wanting his explanation."

* * *

As promised, Blaine knocked on the graffitied door to Santana's narrow apartment at seven, when Kurt was perched on the arm of her couch staring at the wall and eating popcorn, trying to figure out what he could possibly say to Blaine to help smooth the situation over. Backing out of the kitchen with three coffee mugs in her hands, Santana opened the door only for Blaine to walk straight in and sit down in the hard-backed armchair, folding his arms over his chest and demanding, "You said you'd explain, so explain."

Sitting down on the couch, pulling Kurt down to sit next to her, Santana said, "Look, I know you've been through a lot. I know it seems like someone is out to get you. And that could very possibly be the truth in this town, but I am going to try and explain it to you in a way that will help you to protect yourself and the other people you love." She looked down at her lap, fingers bunched together, and Kurt could see her nails lengthening, sharpening into wicked points. "There are a hidden people in this town, Blaine, and it's because of people like me who don't want to stay hidden that people around you seem to be dropping like flies." Her voice deepened into a growl, and she looked up with her eyes glowing and her fangs bared. "There are werewolves all over this place, and there's a small group of them who seem to be determined to rule supreme over the people here. But Blaine, I promise you, I'm not like that, Kurt isn't like that, none of his pack is like that."

"Okay." And it was as easy as that, and Santana's jaw dropped as she slid back into herself, staring at Blaine, gazing at her without fear. "It explains an awful lot of things that have been going on here. I always knew my brother wasn't just mauled by an animal, the claw marks were so specific. Is that some sort of logo?"

"It's like a marking thing," Santana explained slowly, still appearing shocked by such easy acceptance. "It's to show other werewolves who might come across the body that it's already been taken, that this is their victim." She stood up, smoothing her clothes down, and said, "Okay, I'm going to order some food, and I can give you a ride home if you want, Blaine."

"I drove here, it's fine." And the moment Santana left the room to make a phone call, a frosty atmosphere immediately descended, with Blaine barely even looking at Kurt no matter how hard Kurt tried to make eye contact. Finally he said, "I still can't believe what you did to me. I thought you wanted to make me feel better and stop me feeling so sad, but instead you backed off and left me there alone waiting for you to come back."

"It wasn't like that, Blaine, I don't do that!" Kurt insisted desperately. "I felt the change coming, and you don't understand how dangerous someone's first real transformation can be. I could've killed you, do you understand that? I just wanted to protect you!"

Without another word, Blaine simply stood up and left the room, leaving Kurt sinking into the couch, head in his hands. He couldn't be the Alpha his pack deserved, he couldn't be the son his father deserved, he couldn't be the friend Santana deserved, and he couldn't be the boy Blaine deserved. Everybody was simply disappointed by him and his life was collapsing around him. He was a sixteen year old expected to master his wolf side in record time and take on an experienced and powerful werewolf in order to save his hometown from destruction, and protect everyone he loved.

He left Santana's apartment miserable, kicking out at the leaves rolling along the sidewalk as he walked home, hunched over himself with his arms wrapped around his stomach. When exactly had his life become so complicated? Why couldn't it have been easy? He just wanted to be normal, to reject these strange powers and his strange life and have a life beyond the worries of being attacked at every step and losing everyone he loved and being responsible for hundreds of deaths.

The moon was bright that night, a neat half-circle in the sky, and Kurt slept restlessly. Every shadow seemed about to leap out at him, every sound was a footstep of someone looking to mercilessly kill him, and when he heard someone scratching at his window he pulled the curtain aside with a heavy photo frame in hand. "Dude, you're a werewolf and that's the weapon you choose?!" Puck yelled, leaning away from Kurt before he could hit him off the roof.

"Can't any of you ever just ring the doorbell and not scare me half to death?" Kurt asked, laying down his weapon and climbing onto the window ledge, balancing on the tiles with his claws extended to hold on. "What's going on?"

"Mercedes called me after she heard from her mom that your dad had heard from the Andersons that Blaine went missing," Puck said, and Kurt went cold, fear trickling down his spine like ice. "Santana said he arrived at her place, and left in his car, but he never got home. They've found his car parked about ten minutes from his house and there's no sign of blood, but we need everyone who can out looking for him."

Sliding down the roof and dropping to the ground, listening to Puck's claws scraping down the roof and the, " _Oof_!" he let out when he hit the ground, Kurt turned on his heel, rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach, snarling, "I know this was something to do with Cassandra! She's trying to get to me!"

"Okay, Kurt, just calm down, you can't look for Blaine if you end up changing because you're angry," Puck soothed him. "Look, we're all angry, but we can let that anger all come out at a later time. Right now we need to focus on finding him before we have another murder on our hands."

But it was too late. The rage boiled up and up, taking hold of Kurt's body in hot curling tendrils, scalding him from the inside out, and his mouth fell open in a scream of agony as Puck bundled him into his arms, dragging him into the shadows, murmuring, "Just stay calm, Kurt, try to relax, it won't hurt as much if you stay calm." The world was red and moonlight and pain and anger, and that one name blinking bright at the forefront of his mind:  _Blaine_. He had to find Blaine, knowing it even as the wolf ripped through him, when he felt Puck's grip on him slide away in fear, and his paws hit the ground.

Blinking against the sudden change in perception, Kurt looked to Puck, crouched on the ground and looking scared, his hands held up in a pacifying gesture of surrender. "I'm not the enemy," he said, his voice low and scared. "Please don't hurt me." And Kurt waited, waited for the inevitable explosion of feral instinct, the desire to kill and maim and hurt, the wanting for the scent of blood.

Yet it never came, and instead he nudged Puck gently with the end of his snout, crouching low in front of him, and one of his hands slowly came down to run over Kurt's snout, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Normally...why didn't you try to hurt me?" he asked softly. "God, my first change, I asked Tina to chain me up so I wouldn't hurt anyone. I've never seen this kind of control before. Do you think you could find Blaine?"

Kurt tried to recall Blaine's scent, remembering tears and sadness and kissing, and dipped his head in a nod. "Go, I'll call Santana to follow you, just to be sure you won't hurt him," Puck said gently, and Kurt didn't take offence to it. Despite his seeming control over his own animal instincts, he didn't trust himself around humans. Perhaps his wolf just recognised Puck as one of the pack and wouldn't hurt him because of that.

He watched Puck shift into his own wolf - dark and sleek, wiry muscles shifting under rough fur, smaller than Kurt himself - and run down the street, flashing beneath the sickly orange beams of the streetlights, visible for seconds at a time. Only when Puck was out of sight did he turn into the wind and start running, letting his paws guide him, flying over the ground. The wolf controlled him, yet he controlled the wolf, capable of human thought and feeling in a way he'd never imagined he would be. After hearing the horrifying tale of Santana's first change, he'd imagined himself tearing walls apart, howling for blood, the terrifying monster that haunted people's nightmares, and yet he still felt like himself. He was still Kurt Hummel, simply clothed in the wolf.

Stretching out into the ether, trying to feel for the minds of his pack, wondering if any others had transformed to make the search easier, Kurt jerked back to his own consciousness as if he'd been scalded when he felt a moment of fear, of anger, of sadness, and an image of a dark storage room plastered itself across his mind. Tentatively reaching out again, he heard muffled sounds of struggling, heard loud, buzzing, frightened thoughts, disjointed and frantic:  _Gonna kill me...can't get out...help please help...need someone...someone brave...please..._

Following the impressions he found closed in that mind, Kurt ran across the land, the road turning to dirt and leaves beneath his paws, his breath coming out in rough pants, his legs eating up the distance until he skidded to a halt outside an old warehouse, long since abandoned by the rest of society. Nudging the door open with his shoulder, he padded softly inside, hearing only the scrape of his claws on the wood. Then, a dull thud from upstairs, and he followed the sound, remembering Blaine's scent clear as day as it washed over him in heady waves.

Blaine lay on the floor upstairs, curled in on himself, bounds at his wrists and ankles with a scarf tied over his mouth. His eyes went wide and dull with fear when Kurt slinked into the room, and he wriggled frantically to get away. His thoughts were seemingly screaming, pleas of  _Please don't kill me!_  But Kurt moved closer, as close as he could, and carefully cut the ropes away from Blaine's body with his claws, letting him shake his bindings loose, staring up at Kurt. "Who are you?" he asked softly.

Kurt shifted back slowly, letting the wolf drain from his body like liquid, and crouched on the floor next to Blaine, gently brushing the dust off his clothes and staring in horror at the bruises on his face, his neck, where someone had hurt him, tried to kill him. "What did they do to you?" he asked, shocked by how low and dangerous his voice sounded, almost the growl of the wolf.

"I was almost home when I saw an animal running out in front of me, so I stopped, and then they smashed my car window and forced the door open and grabbed me," Blaine said shakily, looking down at the floor and accepting the reassuring hand Kurt offered. "One of them had their hands around my neck so I couldn't cry out, they were these two big, burly guys, and they...they tied me up and brought me here, then they just l-left me. I thought they were going to come back, but they kept mumbling about trying to scare someone."

"Me." Kurt knew it as soon as Blaine finished speaking, and he couldn't help reaching out to touch Blaine, rubbing the marks of the ropes burned into his wrists and the finger-shaped bruises on his neck, trying to brush away the pain. "They're trying to scare me, to stop me from fighting. God, Blaine, I am so sorry, you got dragged into this mess because of me. I never meant for you to get hurt. Not by anyone, and absolutely not by me. I know I hurt you, but I hope we can still be friends."

And Blaine took his face between his hands, his face sweet and vulnerable and earnest when he sweetly asked, "Can I kiss you?" Struck dumb, Kurt couldn't do anything but nod silently, and kiss gently back when Blaine's lip met his for a soft, tender kiss in the darkness. "I don't want to just be friends. I really like you, Kurt, even if you did get me caught up in this supernatural mess. I want to be with you."

"Yes." Kurt grinned, absurdly happy even in the circumstance, and leaned in to kiss Blaine again, a deeper kiss this time, searching. Just for a moment, he felt himself slide into Blaine's thoughts, and heard seven words, loud and clear and a little scary:  _I think I'm in love with you._

* * *

"Come on, keep going!" Helping Tina to her feet, Kurt watched her dart off again, shifting as she ran and tackling Sam into the undergrowth, folding his arms over his chest and smirking in satisfaction as he listened to the sound of snapping jaws.

"I have to hand it to you, Kurt, our training's gone in leaps and bounds since you started going out with Blaine," Santana said with a smile, squeezing Kurt's shoulder and pushing an attacking Mercedes away with a brush of her hand. "How is it going with him? I'll admit, even I was shocked to go after you and find two people kissing in an abandoned warehouse."

"It's wonderful," Kurt said dreamily, and Santana rolled her eyes. "I really like him, San, and he isn't scared of me. No matter what I do, I know he isn't going to run away. Even my dad likes him."

"High praise indeed," Santana observed, grinning. Kurt nodded eagerly, and her smile slipped away as she stepped in closer to him, drawing him away from the pack. "Kurt, one of Cassandra's lackies tried to break into my place last night. I fought him off, but he left me with a message that they're looking for a fight. I think we need to confront them. And I know we haven't been training for long, but we're a strong pack, Kurt, and you're turning out to be a really great leader."

Looking out over the four members of his pack, grappling with each other and all engaged in stalemates, Kurt turned back to Santana, a cloud settled over her face, filled with worry. "I think we're ready," he said quietly. "We'll fight tonight."

Dismissing the five of them, after they'd finished arranging to meet after night fell, Kurt ran over to Blaine's house, finding him already sitting in the garden and waiting. The moment he saw Kurt, his eyes lit up, and he ran over to him, throwing his arms around Kurt's neck and exclaiming, "You didn't say you were coming over today! I thought you were training all day."

"Actually, I came over to talk to you about that," Kurt said softly, taking Blaine's hand and pulling him inside, out of the sunlight and the neighbourhood and into the gloom, the place where he thrived. "We have to engage Cassandra's pack in battle, or this campaign to take control of this town back is never going to go anywhere. And I know it might scare you a little, but I am going to do everything in my power to keep everyone safe."

"And what about you?" Blaine asked anxiously, fear descending in a mask over his face. "Who'll be keeping you safe?" He squeezed Kurt's hands, bringing him in closer and looking up at him with scared eyes. "Kurt, I already lost Cooper, then Marley. I can't lose you too. Not knowing what would happen to you, and to this town if you were gone."

"I can keep myself safe," Kurt promised softly, pressing a kiss to Blaine's forehead. "There is no way I'm giving up now, Blaine. Not when I can control the wolf and I can fight and take back this town and my mother's legacy. Just make sure you stay inside tonight, and keep as many people as you can from leaving their homes. It's going to be dangerous out there."

He turned to leave, but Blaine's fingers wrapped around his wrist drew him back for a kiss, tilting their foreheads together when Blaine broke away first. "Kurt, I..." He swallowed, eyelashes brushing his cheeks when he looked at his feet. When he looked up into Kurt's eyes, it seemed to be a great effort, and he murmured, "I love you."

Kurt felt his eyes go wide in shock, an incredulous smile spread across his face, and he took Blaine's face gently between his hands to reply, "I love you too." It was easy and simple, and Blaine beamed up at him, his arms wrapping around Kurt's neck as he leaned up to kiss him eagerly, pushing away the fear that they might lose the fight, lose more than their lives, and making Kurt feel strong and capable. Blaine's faith in him built him up, the knowing that he had someone out there hoping for him made him feel powerful, more powerful than he could fathom.

Yet that feeling fell away quickly when they faced Cassandra's pack that night, so much larger than their own, volatile young wolves snapping their jaws and growling, limbs quivering with the want to attack. Cassandra stood in the middle, and Kurt recognised her from that night, the night that had turned his life upside-down, her eyes red as the shots of fading sunlight lacing the sky. His lips drew back from his teeth in a snarl as she smirked at them, waggling her fingers in greeting. "Isn't this funny?" she asked, her smirk twisting her face, her arms folded, long dirty claws extending from the tips of her fingers. "A pack of pups, looking to challenge an Alpha. Rebels like you are always squashed."

"I believe you're the rebel," Santana growled, crouching low as the wolf settled over her, dark fur and glowing golden eyes, her teeth snapping at the cold night air. Kurt caught Sam's eyes and gave a barely perceptible nod, and they melted into their wolves around him. He crouched last, waiting for a change in the wind, the slightest movement, the indication that the battle was afoot. As he shifted, so did Cassandra, and her terrifying howl split the still night in two.

The battle seemed like a blur to Kurt. He engaged most of the young wolves, savage but uncoordinated in their tactics, and tried to incapacitate every one without hurting them too much, humane even in the heat of battle. Looking around in brief moments of respite, he saw his pack fighting with everything they'd learned, and felt a surge of pride. They were brave and bold, despite a distinct lack of training and the worry they'd all expressed, and for those moments he felt like they might leave victorious, that he could take his status back from Cassandra and everything would work out for them.

But a yelp shattered those hopes, and Kurt turned to see Sam fall, Cassandra standing over him with her fangs bloody and her eyes gleaming red. As he watched, panic drenching his heart, his breath rattling with fear, she slid easily back into human form, and melted into the shadows. "Sam!" Mercedes' scream brought Kurt back into himself, and he ran to Sam, dropping to his knees in the mud and tearing off his shirt, pressing it against the wound on Sam's side, tears springing to his eyes.

"Please hold on," he whispered desperately, silence falling around him, everyone's face already in a mask of mourning. "Come on, Sam, hold on, it's going to be okay. We can get your parents here, they can give you medical attention, you can heal. Just hold on a little longer, you can do it." Tears slipped down his cheeks, scalding his skin on the cold night, and he felt Santana's hand clasp against his shoulder. "Sam,  _please_."

"I'm sorry," Sam said weakly, his voice barely more than a breath. Yet still he managed to smile that same grin up at Kurt, saying, "Everyone has to make sacrifices. You guys keep going, defeat her and take back control. You'll be a great Alpha, Kurt." And he was gone, unseeing eyes reflecting the stars peppering the night sky, and Kurt sat back on his heels, staring down at the lifeless body, overpowering rage searing through his veins.

The first rustling he heard was that of the smallest wolf in Cassandra's pack, and he turned around with his fangs already extended, claws flying and teeth snapping as he leapt at the wolf. Anger drove his movements, animal instincts screaming at him, and by the time he came back to himself he was standing over a dead body. "Oh my God," he stammered, staggering back from the scene, collapsing into Puck's waiting grip. "I..." He trailed off, bile rising in his throat, tears pouring down his cheeks.

It was Santana who spoke first, her face a grim mask. "We have to get back and get away from this place," she said, pulling a crying Tina and Mercedes to their feet. "Come on, Kurt, everyone gets angry, and they deserved it. An eye for an eye, a friend for a friend. Let's get you home before anyone else decides to attack."

Following them out of the woods and back into the streets, striped orange by the streetlamps, Kurt couldn't help but be disgusted with himself. He'd vowed never to kill anyone as long as they were locked in this struggle for control, and yet he had murdered someone. They'd never wanted to be tangled in this mess in the first place, Cassandra had changed them using dark magic, using force, and he'd taken away any chance they had of returning to a normal life. He'd planned to use his status as the Alpha to help people, not to destroy them, the way his mother had used hers to build up their community, planning to peacefully reveal themselves to humans and no longer hide themselves away, ashamed of everything they were.

But instead he had used it to kill someone, to take away a life, and when he lay in bed that night he was disgusted with himself. How could what they were going be right, if people had to die for them to achieve their aims? How could it be the right thing, to murder someone? They didn't deserve to die. It was Cassandra who killed Sam, not that person who'd been dragged into this conflict against their will. Cassandra was the only one Kurt needed his revenge on, no one else.

* * *

Hearing the howl shatter the night, Kurt squeezed Blaine's hand tighter in his, and drew him in close. "What does she want with you?" Blaine asked quietly, curling in closer to Kurt. "What if she hurts you? She could do it so easily, she's so powerful. I don't want you to die."

"She just wants to talk, I promise," Kurt replied, his voice strained and tense. "I have to meet with her, we might be able to negotiate a settlement and avoid any more deaths." Letting go of Blaine's hand, he started walking quickly, following the echo of the howl. Blaine's footsteps followed, and he turned around to snap, "Go home, Blaine! This is dangerous, you can't put yourself in her path!"

"And what if you get hurt with no one to help you?!" Blaine shouted at him, folding his arms defiantly across his chest. "I need to be there, Kurt, to watch you and to find someone who knows more about werewolf biology than me if she hurts you. I can't stay here not knowing what's going on. I won't lose you too, and I won't find you the way I found Cooper, hearing him scream and running to find him already gone. I want to at least be able to say goodbye."

Reaching for Blaine's hand, Kurt looked down into his eyes to say, "I am  _never_  saying goodbye to you." Sighing heavily at his impossible boyfriend, he finally said, "Fine, you can come to watch over me, but you have to be quiet. If Cassandra suspects I've brought someone else to something that should just involve me and her, she'll kill you first and ask questions later."

Nodding, his eyes going dark with fear, Blaine crept behind Kurt until they reached the woods, where they separated and Blaine disappeared into the undergrowth. Letting the wolf break through his skin, Kurt padded through the trees, searching everywhere for those red eyes, familiar and frightening. Another howl sounded, making the fur on his back stand on end and shivers skitter down his spine, and the enormous white wolf emerged like a ghost from the gloom, eyes gleaming red. Hearing a twig break, Kurt darted a warning look into the bushes, and turned back to watch the wolf lurch back onto two legs, melting away to leave Cassandra behind, hair whipped around her face by the wind and smirk satisfied, as if already knowing that Kurt will give in to her demands.

"You can't protect everyone," she said, her voice almost a growl. "Not forever. I will come after them, and you will be helpless."

"I want my birthright, Cassandra," Kurt snarled, and he heard more rustling in the bushes, sending out a hope that Cassandra wouldn't know Blaine was there. He couldn't watch her kill him. "You may have become the Alpha by killing my mother, but I was born to lead this town. I will seize power back from you."

"Darling, you can't do that without causing deaths," Cassandra said silkily, almost lazily examining her nails. "Do you want me to kill your father? The rest of your pack of bumbling amateurs? You can go home and find them with their hearts ripped out. Or will I play with your mate? Do you want me to toy with him, to draw our mark all over him, and slit his throat?"

Kurt was bristling, lips drawn back over his teeth in a snarl, and he felt like the Alpha for a second, more rage than blood in his body. He stormed up to Cassandra, and his voice was terrifying and deep as he snarled, "If you lay a finger on Blaine, there won't be a place on this earth where I won't find you and make you pay for every second he suffers."

"Accept me as your Alpha, and everyone you love survives," Cassandra said, her eyes filled with the emptiness of the promise. "Give up the fight and you'll be protected. You'll be safe. But oppose me, and everyone you love will die on the next full moon."

"I won't live my life under you," Kurt said firmly. "I know you can't be trusted and you'll destroy the town. I care about the people in this town and I will protect them against you for as long as I possibly can."

Cassandra glared at him, her eyes flashing red, and snapped, "Fine, then we fight at the next full moon. Your little team, and my pack. Winner takes all." Kurt nodded, and watched Cassandra turn back into the wolf and run away.

Blaine stumbled out of the undergrowth, eyes wide with fright, and grabbed for Kurt the moment he got close enough. "Kurt, she's going to kill you!" he insisted, clinging to Kurt's arm. "How can you not be scared?! She'll kill you and then I'll never see you again and I'll never really be your mate."

"You want to be?" Kurt asked softly, taking Blaine's hands in his and drawing him closer. "You really want to be my mate? With the ceremony and everything?" Blaine nodded eagerly, and Kurt smiled down at him. "We'll do it. Before the next full moon. Having our minds connected might be an advantage." Eyes bright with happiness, Blaine slid an arm around Kurt's neck and leaned up to kiss him, and Kurt smiled into the kiss.

* * *

"Are you crazy?!" Rolling his eyes, Kurt turned away from Santana. Snatching at his shoulder, she turned him around again, saying, "Kurt, you're telling me you are sixteen years old and you want to mate with your fifteen year old boyfriend? Do you even understand what having a mate  _means_?"

"I know exactly what it means!" Kurt snapped, folding his arms across his chest. She though he hadn't done his research into the depths of their mythology, seeking out the bonds exchanging by two souls wishing to drown completely in each other. "It means being protected and protecting, being loved and loving, kept safe and keeping safe. I love Blaine more than anything, Santana, and I want this with him. I know exactly what it entails. It could be an advantage for us when we fight Cassandra."

"Kurt, when you get hurt in that battle, Blaine will feel every second of it," Santana said, her hands on his shoulders, threatening to shake him like he was a misbehaving child. "You have a higher threshold for pain than he does, something you can heal might kill him. And if you die, then he will feel it and die too. Are you willing to put his life in the balance for this?"

"He's the one who wants it, Santana, I would never have decided to do this if he didn't want it too," Kurt explained, slumping into the armchair and drawing his knees up to his chest, hugging himself in. "I just...I love him so much, and if we make it out of all of this alive, I want to be with him for the rest of my life. I know we're young, but this feels so right, and I don't want to give it up."

"God, you are the most stubborn person I have ever met," Santana said long-sufferingly, perching on the arm of his chair. "You find something you want and you just won't let it go. Which is how I know we're going to win this, because you want it." Leaning closer, she asked, "What does your dad think about this? And where are you going to do it?"

"We were just going to do it at my house, where everything we have started," Kurt confided, unable to keep himself from smiling softly at the memory. "And I tried to talk to my dad, but he freaked out and said I was far too young to commit to one person. But he had to grudgingly accept it when I pointed out that he bonded with my mother not long after they met, and they weren't much older than Blaine and I are now. Some things just feel right - he agrees with me on that."

Santana smiled down at him, and put an arm around his shoulders, hugging him gently against her side. "If you want him, take him, honey," she said sweetly. "Good luck with everything. But, if I respect your decision, I want you to respect mine when I decide to mate with someone."

Hugging her, Kurt stood up and ran out of her apartment, driving home to find Blaine already waiting for him. "Hi," he murmured shyly, and Blaine beamed at him. "Are you still completely sure about this?"

"Of course I am," Blaine said sweetly. "I love you more than anything, and I want to be with you forever. I want us to be bonded." He took Kurt's hands and kissed him sweetly on the cheek, and Kurt smiled as he led him slowly inside.

They slid down onto Kurt's bed, arms wrapped around each other as they kissed, Blaine's fingers wound into Kurt's hair. "I love you," Kurt whispered against his temple. "I love you so much. And I'm so happy that we're doing this." Propping himself up over Blaine, staring down into his boyfriend's trusting eyes, he said, "You know what has to happen, don't you? I have to find the wolf within myself, and you have to trust me completely."

"I do," Blaine promised, and Kurt pressed his forehead against Blaine's as he sank deep into himself, finding the tendrils of the animal hiding within his heart, trailing through his veins, and collecting each one together, summoning the wolf from deep within. Blaine was his anchor, keeping the change from coming, his scent and the warmth and the slow sweeps of his palms up and down Kurt's spine, a methodical rhythm that kept Kurt calm as he concentrated hard, wrapping the strength of the wolf around both of them, drawing Blaine into the web, holding him close, feeling his chest rise and fall with his breathing.

"Do you truly love me?" Kurt asked softly, and Blaine's answer was to kiss him, the heat between them overwhelming as the wolf cradled both of them, pressing them closer and closer until the pressure seemed impossible, until Kurt imagined he might explode from the sheer force of the joy and overwhelming love swelling in his heart. Then, as suddenly at it had come, the pressure melted away, and Kurt let out the breath he'd been holding, looking down at Blaine with a smile. "Oh my God, Blaine, I can't believe we did that," he murmured, clasping Blaine's hands in his and leaning down to kiss him.

"I love you so much," Blaine whispered, and dragged Kurt down into the bed with him as they kissed, deep and searching and passionate, everything they felt and didn't know how to say pouring into each other. When they finally surfaced, dizzy and breathing heavily and exchanging small, shy smiles, Blaine brushed Kurt's hair back behind his ear and said, "You can't get hurt now. I'll be right here, protecting you and keeping you safe."

Nudging his nose lovingly against Blaine's, Kurt smiled and simply promised, "I'm fighting to keep you safe."

* * *

The moonlight streamed through the trees, shadows crawling across the ground, and Kurt looked up at the whistle of the wind, claws extended and eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Calm down," Santana murmured gently. "You're getting too edgy. Being nervous will let you make mistakes, and we can't afford it." Snapping her fingers, shattering the silence, she drew them together, a tiny group compared to the wolves Cassandra had at her back, and said, "You all understand our plan, right? We want to restrain but not kill the young wolves to leave Kurt to negotiate with Cassandra and hopefully reach a peaceful solution."

Cassandra came into the clearing first, and Kurt stared her down without fear. He could feel Blaine at the edge of his mind, a gentle nudge of  _Be safe_  before he walked forward, his pack at his shoulders, all trembling with anticipation. They were going to fight, and they were going to win. As he shifted, Kurt felt the strength of the Alpha in his veins, and snapped his jaws, tilting his head back and letting out a triumphant howl. This was his hour, to avenge everyone he'd lost, to take revenge on Cassandra for the bright, wonderful lives that she had taken in her search for power.

But, to Kurt's horror, the moment the fight started it became clear that all their planning would amount to nothing. They were clearly outnumbered, and Cassandra's wolves were ruthless, teeth and claws flying as they attacked again and again. Every time they managed to subdue one, three others seemed to rise up to take its place, and it was all any of them could do just to stay alive, to keep their numbers from dwindling further. And all the time Cassandra just stood by, still in her human form, watching the proceedings with her arms folded and triumph written across her face.

Ducking away from the fighting, watching Tina engage the wolf he'd been locked in a fight with, Kurt ran towards Cassandra, shifting back into his human form and shouting, "Fight me, Cassandra! You think you're worthy of being the Alpha? Prove it!"

"Well, if your desire to die is really that strong," Cassandra said silkily, her eyes turning to red as her gaze pierced into Kurt. Kurt stumbled back when she shifted, an immense wolf white against the darkness and silvered eerily by the moon, her eyes blazing furious red. Clenching his jaw, he shifted into his own wolf form, so much smaller and sleeker, and ran forward, darting between her heavy paws and snapping at her legs, hoping to keep her still for long enough to hold her down and force her to start a discussion.

But she was impossibly fast despite her size, and Kurt knew he shouldn't have engaged her, should've defeated her pack first so he could take her on with his friends at his side. She'd been a wolf for years longer than he had, and a powerful one too, someone who had defeated an Alpha and created her own pack through dark magic, someone tangled with so much darkness that nothing could defeat her. He heard a scream of his name at the edge of his mind, and for that moment when he tried to stop, tried to send a message to Blaine that he was okay, claws rent across his shoulder and he collapsed in the dirt with a howl of agony, fur melting away into skin as he clamped a hand over his shoulder, blood running between his fingers.

"Just as I thought," Cassandra spat, standing over him with a sneer twisting her lips, her arms folded over her chest. "You're weak. You'll never be your mother or any Alpha before her. If you can't even defeat a usurper, what chance do you have against a real threat?"

She crouched down next to Kurt, her touch almost tender as she ran her claw down his neck, tracing the lines she would split to kill him. Panting into the leaves and blinking away the tears springing to his eyes, Kurt sent out a last plea, into the ether, hoping Blaine would hear him:  _We need help. Bring the elders._

The darkness pressed in, seeming to cradle Kurt in gentle arms, and he almost felt like surrendering. But he held it back, thinking of Blaine, of his father, of his pack who he could still hear fighting, the growling and the sounds of claws scraping, all the reasons he had to hold on, to stay alive. "People like you always get their comeuppance," he said weakly, pushing down relieved smile when he felt the wounds across his shoulder start to knit, healing. "You can't win this war, Cassandra."

"My dear, you seem to forget," Cassandra said softly, raising her hand and looking down at Kurt with nothing short of pity. "I already have."

And then a new howl sounded on the night, and Kurt grinned up at her, seeing the confusion in her eyes and replied, "I don't think so." He rolled away in time for a wolf larger than himself to knock Cassandra to the ground, and stood up, dusting himself off and taking a few testing steps on unsteady feet, wiping the blood off his hand and checking how his shoulder was healing.

"Kurt!" Blaine's arms flew around his neck, and Kurt winced, pushing him off gently and rolling his shoulder. "Oh thank God you're okay, I felt your pain and I was so worried, I thought that maybe...maybe..." He trailed away, eyes glistening with tears, and Kurt cradled his face between his hands and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

"You saved my life, Blaine," he said quietly. "I know that we were meant to be mates and protect and care for each other. And I am so grateful to you." Blaine nodded, the tears spilling down his cheeks, and leaned up to kiss him, the world seemingly melting away until it was just the two of them, locked eagerly in each other's arms.

"Kurt." Santana's voice brought Kurt back into himself, and he turned to find the battle had ended. The young wolves were all restrained, still snarling and snapping their jaws, and Cassandra was bound with thick ropes, kneeling in the dirt with her head forced down and two wolves guarding her. "You have to decide her penalty," Santana said, and Kurt turned to the woman who had taken so much from him, Blaine's hand held tightly in his.

With every step, his strength felt new, overwhelming, rushing through his veins and making his heart pound He was the Alpha, it was his birthright, and he didn't need to become it by taking it from Cassandra by force. "I'm not going to kill you," he said softly, and he could see how grateful Cassandra was. "No one deserves to die at the hands of one of our kind. But I am your Alpha, and you will accept me as it. You will undo the enchantments you've placed on these people and allow them to return to their own lives. You will denounce the pack and live the rest of your days in shame. These are my terms, and if you will not agree to them, then I will allow someone else to kill you."

Cassandra bowed her head, and Kurt heard her mumble, "I will agree," through clenched teeth, her mouth twisting as she spat the words out like poison. And he breathed, and he was overwhelmed by the relief that it was over. As his own father and Puck's mother marched Cassandra away, he turned to his pack, a smile on his face.

"Your eyes, Kurt," Santana said in awe, her eyes wide with amazement. "They're red." The wolf slid onto Kurt as easily as a second skin, and he threw his head back and howled into the night, joy in his mind as he began to run, the Alpha he was born to be at last.


End file.
